Skyline Ridge
by kepulver
Summary: G1 Transformers  The Combaticons return to Guadalcanal written for the March Transficsation challenge to write a fic that took place outside the USEurope.


**Title:** Skyline Ridge  
**Originally Posted:** March 1, 2007  
**Fandom:** Transformers  
**Characters:** Combaticons  
**Prompt:** Solomon Islands  
**Word Count:** approximately 1287 words  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** The Combaticons visit the Solomon Islands; takes place in 1993/1994.  
**Author's Notes:** Written for the Transficsation March Challenge which was to write the Transformers in a country that was anywhere but North America. I chose the Solomon Islands, since that is where Guadalcanal is located. The Guadalcanal American Memorial was built in 1992 and refurbished in 1998. There's more information about it and the source of the two quotes used in the story in my author's profile. There are other sources I used for information on the location of the memorial and the significance of the ridge; unfortunately, I didn't keep records of those sites. Any errors are mine entirely.   
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**Skyline Ridge**

The Combaticons hovered briefly over the compound at the top of the ridgeline. Had it been daylight, their very presence would have been enough to start a panic. At this hour of the night, they were inconspicuous enough. Anyone out and about at this hour would likely not want to call attention to themselves by calling attention to the Combaticons.

Onslaught landed gently near the center of the compound, his feet squarely on the edge of the large white star inlaid into the pavement. His brothers landed flanking him, two to either side.

Overhead, the stars shone brightly, only slightly dimmed by the light from the moon. Except for the rustling, ever-present vegetation and the overbearing organic stench of the landscape, Onslaught could almost have pretended he was back home again on Cybertron.

The emphasis, of course, being on 'almost.'

Before them stood a red stone pylon -- chest high on Onslaught and Blast Off, chin level on Brawl and slightly taller than Vortex and Swindle. Four smaller walls, made of the same red stone as the pylon, radiated out in various directions within the compound.

Walking carefully across the star, Onslaught marched toward the red stone pylon, standing stiff before it as he glanced down to read the words written at human eye-level.

His brothers followed him, moving in a crisp formation that would have surprised anyone who was used to the Combaticons' usual disregard for military formality. Revisiting Guadalcanal had this effect on them all; the formality a cover for the nervousness they felt about returning to what was, for all intents and purposes, their second birthplace.

"What's it say?" Brawl stared at the center pylon, sounding belligerently curious.

Swindle leaned forward, head cocking to one side before he read aloud: "This memorial has been erected by the United States of America in humble tribute to its sons and its allies who paid the ultimate sacrifice for the liberation of the Solomon Islands 1942 - 1943." Swindle grunted. "Guess it's a war memorial?"

"Brilliant deduction, Swindle," Blast Off said, crossing his arms over his chest. "What was your first clue?"

"Hey, shove it, Blast Off," Swindle said, quieting only when Onslaught turned back to them, his optics shining in the darkness. "...sorry Onslaught."

"Pretty boring, dontcha think?" Vortex sighed wistfully, ignoring or unmindful of Onslaught's displeasure. "There's not even any statues of anybody or any eternal flames or anything. I mean, what's it all even _mean_?"

"The walls point in the directions of various battles," Onslaught said, keeping his voice level. "They recount the battle's progress. And, from this vantage point, we can see the site of some of the most severe fighting of the Guadalcanal Campaign. For myself, I like to imagine that this is where our new forms were disabled -- though considering we were reconstructed elsewhere on the island, I realize that is an unlikely fantasy."

"Indeed." Blast Off was the first to step away from the pack, moving toward the white stone wall bordering the memorial compound. "I take it we are here simply for sight seeing purposes, then?"

Onslaught relaxed his fists. "Partly, yes," he said. "I learned of this site by chance. The humans have only recently established this memorial. Because of our connection to this place, I thought it only proper that we come to see it."

Blast Off stared at Onslaught, his gaze level and penetrating. "Really?" he said. "What for? Our recreation here was an accident -- if Starscream could go more than a lunar cycle without trying to take Megatron's place, we'd still be incarcerated. I fail to see why we should become maudlin simply because we share a tenuous connection with a few dead humans."

Onslaught didn't answer at first, though it was clear from his posture and the way he held his hands that he was furious. Brawl and the others shuffled nervously, moving away to wander the memorial site. There wasn't far for them to go, but they went as far as they could. Onslaught and Blast Off didn't disagree often, but when they did it could get ugly, fast.

"They were soldiers," Onslaught said finally. "Like we are. They no more asked to come here than we did. Their craft formed our bodies; like it or not, Blast Off, we are bound to them and this place. But beyond that -- do you think there are any memorials to us on Cybertron? Do you seriously think that anyone there remembers us as anything other than five more names on the long, long list of those who failed?"

Blast Off bristled. "What do we care about being remembered?"

"Do you think if we'd been remembered that we'd have been left in Room 217 for so long?" Onslaught's voice was quiet, almost gentle. Blast Off didn't respond. Swindle, Vortex and Brawl looked everywhere but at the two of them; Onslaught could feel radio chatter going back and forth between the three of them. He resisted the urge to try and soothe them. They all needed to hear this.

"We're not entirely forgotten," Onslaught said. "Oiler remembered us; perhaps a handful of others might as well. But that is not enough. Not anymore."

Onslaught walked back over to the star, stopping over a tiny metal plaque mounted in the center. "Do you know what this is?" he said, resting his gaze on each of them for a moment before moving on to the next. "Do you?"

"How can we?" Blast Off asked, peevishly. "This is the first time any of us have been here. If you want us to know, you'll need to tell us -- sorry to spoil your posturing."

Onslaught ignored him. "'During the excavation of the memorial site below this large star, the remains of a fallen American were found,'" he said, quoting the plaque from memory. "'Although a large portion of his remains was removed and sent home, there is still a scattering of minute fragments left behind of this unknown warrior who gave his life for freedom. May he rest in peace.' The humans remember their fallen. Even the humans who lost this battle have memorials here. They remember the ones who fell, regardless of the fact that they failed. _That_ is what I wanted you to see."

"Yeah but...the humans won't wanna remember us, Ons," Vortex said, rotors whirling as he looked anxiously at Onslaught. "I mean...they don't exactly like us, remember? They're still kinda mad about that Generistan stuff an' the Christmas tree thing an' if they ever find out we were the ones who wanted to push 'em all into their sun..."

"Parts of us are here, Vortex," Onslaught said. "Starscream couldn't find all of our donor bodies' parts. He clearly scavenged parts from multiple wrecks. Like the soldier under this memorial, bits of us are still here. As long as this memorial exists, we will be remembered in some small part."

"You sound like a superstitious mystic," Blast Off said. "Our scraps are not us, Onslaught. Our _true_ bodies are long-recycled. Should we memorialize whatever armor plating they've been recreated as? Do you want us to scatter our replacement parts across the planet, simply so some sympathetic magic can unwittingly force the humans to remember us? Really, Onslaught, do you realize how you sound?"

"Would you rather be nothing again?" Onslaught asked, catching Blast Off's optics with his own and staring into them. "Or would you rather hold to some small hope?"

Blast Off stared levelly at Onslaught for nearly a quarter of a breem before finally dropping his gaze, turning to one side. "Fine, have your way," he said. "We'll stare at the humans' stones if it'll end this idiotic trip all the sooner." 


End file.
